Promises
by hawtshizyo
Summary: After a four year absence, Damien returns to earth with a craving for human flesh. Pip is on the top of his menu. Can Damien withhold his craving to protect the young Brit? DamienxPip South Park Dip rated m for later chapters.
1. The Parting

This story is about forbidden gay love, gore, sex, angst, lust suffering and loneliness. If this isn't your cup of tea, please do not hesitate to click the back button.

This is the prologue. More to come!  
-Pip's P0V.-

"Phillip, I need to tell you something," Damien's deep voice hummed, his pasty white face showed no emotion, the fire in his eyes not burning, indicating he wasn't mad at Pip, but it was something diffrent entirely. Damien cleared his throat, "I'm going home today."

Pip looked up, staring at Damien with wide, blue eyes. He blinked, remaining silent for a moment, processing the thought in his mind. "...You mean, you're going back... down there?" He whispered softly, Damien nodded. "B-B-But why? Why so suddenly?" squeaked the British boy, his eyes scanning the other male for answers.

Damien shrugged, "Father's orders," he whispered quietly, then turned to walk away. Pip quickly acted, reaching out and grabing his hand, pulling him back. Damien turned around and gave him a nasty glare, but calmed down. "Pip, don't be difficult," his voice was low, and almost scary. He reached out, placing a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. Pip pulled away quickly, staring at the snow covered ground.

"Me?" He whispered, tears building up. He clenched his fists. "I'm not the one thats leaving, and messing everything up, Damien!" Pip cried, tears spilling from his eyes onto his cold cheeks.

"Oh, Pip... Don't cry, please," Damien murmured. If anything, Pip knew that the demon boy hated it when he cried. Was that his sole purpose for defending and protecting Pip during the past three years? So he wouldn't cry? Pip didn't know, nor did he care at the present time. His thoughts were interupted as Damien pulled him into a warm hug. Normally, the heat radiating from the anti-christ would almost burn his skin, but in the January weather, it felt nice. He buried his face into Damien's chest, sobbing. He couldn't believe he had broke. He was an orphan, and a victim of Cartman's taunts for heaven's sake, and he was crying now? In front of the anti-christ of all people? Who probably didn't even care about him? Despite all this, Pip cried harder.

"I'll try to visit you," Damien's deep voice came soothing.

"Will you?" Pip questioned, his voice hoarse.

Damien remained silent for a moment, before sighing. "I'll try, Pip,"

"You won't," He argued, pulling away and looking up at him. Their faces were so close... Pip could feel the heat radiating from his face, and had the perfect view of his sharply trimmed jaw line, and his sickly pale skin seemed to glow in the winter air. Damien looked down at his wristwatch, and sighed.

"Pip..." He whispered, pulling him closer. Pip's eyes widened as Damien leaned closer. The demon boy quickly captured his lips in a long, soft kiss. Pip's eyes were wide, his face heating up. The touch of the other male sent electric sparks waving through his body, reaching even his toes and fingertips. All that, however, was gone when Damien pulled away. He was cold again. Damien rested his forehead against the small British boy's. "see you later..." he whispered softly, lifting up his hand, pulling a chunk of Pip's blond hair behind his hair before pulling away, then walking in the other direction, not turning around as he walked into the distance.

Pip watched him in silence, even when he disappeared beyond the curb, his eyes stared at the gray sky. Only when he began to loose feeling in his fingers, he turned back around, walking in the direction of his home, remaining quiet. His hand clutched his aching chest, but the pain wasn't leaving. It only grew worse.

Damien, the anti-christ, child of Satan, his Damien, had left him. and wasn't coming back.


	2. The Return

Chapter One  
-Damien's P0V-  
Four Years Later.

It was dark, and hot. But what else was to be expected in hell?  
Damien let out a low growl, which rumbled deep in his throat, before breaking into a screech of anger, as he picks up a stone pebble and throws it at a decaying corpse hanging from a burnt tree near by. He got up off the ground, stomping toward his home angerily. He was bored. It was the same old things day after day, torture people, laugh at people, throw things at people. He used to love this, but not since he returned from earth four years ago. Of course he still found it amusing, but not nearly as much as he did before his visit to the top of the earth.  
Damien had transfered to a small Elementary school in South Park, Colorado, where he spent his time lighting people on fire and torturing them. He had spent three years there, from fourth grade until seventh, then returned home due to his father's commands. Damien sighed, shaking off his train of thought, running to his home, skipping over the magma pools and hopping over the dead bodies that laid in his path. Eventually, he got to his small home. He lived there by himself, his father lived a few layers beneath him. Damien opened the door to his empty house, grabbed some clothes and shoved them into a backpack. He threw it over his shoulder, and stormed back out the door. He walked towards the nearby pitfall, which lead to his father's home. He jumped into the hole, quickly plummeting down and landing in a lava pool. Damien sighed, getting up and wiping himself off, before walking towards the large mansion that stood nearby. Once at the door, he stepped inside, not even bothering to knock. His father's house was filled with huge statue's of himself, the biggest one stood in the middle of the main room, it was large, and made of stone. It was his father, an expression of wrath burned on his face as he crushed a human in his palm. Damien ran a hand through his black hair before making his way towards the kitchen, where his father was doing the dishes.  
"Dad," Damien's deep voice ruptured from his throat, "I'm going to the surface,"  
Satan stopped, and let out a deep sigh, tossing his dish rag onto the counter. He turned to look at his son, who stood firmly in front of him. "And why is that?" He asked.  
"Because I'm bored with all this torturing bullshit!" Damien hissed, clenching his fists. "I want to go back to South Park,"  
Satan looked at him, blinked, then continued to look at him. "Are you sure that's what you want?" questioned the demon.  
"Yeah," Damien replied cooly, folding his arms over his firm chest. "Yeah, it is."  
"Okay," Satan replied, then stepped towards his son, placing a hand on his shoulder. "As you know, of course, you have to make a sacrifice in order to be surfaced, right?"  
"Yeah," Damien repeated. Last time he had visited earth, he gave up his voice, and was stuck with a gummy high pitched whine, until he hit puberty in sixth grade. He had a feeling the sacrifice was going to be much greater then his voice, this time, however.  
"Alright," Satan furrowed a brow, deep in thought. His face then lit up, then turned into a nasty grin. "Well, seeming that you're so 'bored' with torturing human's, I'm going to fix that," he went on, "Damien, I'm going to let you go to the earth, in exchange for your sanity. You can stay up there for as long as you like, but you're going to have a craving for flesh. Not just any type of flesh, but human. Of course, animal flesh will work temporarily, but you're always going to have a desire to rip apart the person next to you. Is that alright?"  
Damien listened carefully, then nodded. He didn't really care, he would kill a human if he had too. He already thought back to people that he knew while he lived on the surface, and made a list of who he would eat first.  
"You can't just go running around eating people either, Damien, no one know's that you're from here. They'll think you're mad. You got to do it with skill and stealth, think things out, Damien, I know you, and you wont do that," he mumbled.  
Damien rolled his eyes, "whatever, fine. I don't care. Just send me up,"  
Satan sighed hoplessly, he knew Damien wasn't going to listen to him, "good luck son," he muttered, stepping towards him, flicking his forehead, and everything went black.

-

Damien awoke some time later, a growl rumbled in his throat as he felt cold. He opened his eyes, looking around. He noticed he was laying in the ditch, covered in snow. Damien let out a snarl. 'Of course, leave it to father to place me here of all god damn places.' He growled to himself, getting up and walking onto the sidewalk. He took the time to examine his surroundings. It looked to be around late November, and he was standing in the very middle of the small town. Everything seemed exactly the same as he remembered it, the cold air, the rude atmosphere, it was nice. It was a change from hell, at least.  
Damien began his walk, looking around town. He saw a few people he recognized, but he shrugged it off. He didn't really care about any of them. One thing he noticed was the diffrent scent of each person that walked past them. They all smelt different, some more appetizing then others, some more sour then others, some more bitter. None of them approved Damien's taste, however, so he kept on his way.  
Walking past a small bakery, he heard a grunt from behind him, then felt something collide into his back. Damien leaped forwards, wrath rising as he turned around to meet the poor soul who bumped into him. It was a teenage male, around his age, laying on the ground, his groceries scattered all over the sidewalk around him. The boy looked up. He had a nasty green gaze and pale skin dotted with soft freckles, some twirls of red hair poking out from under his green hat.  
"Hey, wat-" he started, but then stopped. He quickly got up, then examined Damien closer. "Dude, do I know you?"  
Damien didn't answer, but inhaled deeply. The scent drifting from him was sour, and it made his nose wrinkle slightly. He then regained control of his expression. "How would I know? Do you?" Damien replied deeply.  
"Hey! You're that weird kid from fourth kid! The one that caught shit on fire!"  
Damien grinned. His reputation seemed to have stayed.  
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his eyes seemed intrested in Damien.  
"Just stopping by," Damien mumbled, sliding his hands into his pockets.  
"Oh, I'm Kyle, by the way, if you didn't remember," He smiled.  
"I didn't," Damien hissed coldly.  
Kyle frowned, "Oh... okay. Well you're Damien, right?"  
He nodded.  
Kyle's face lit up, but then he dropped back to his knees, gathering his scattered groceries and placing them back in the bag. "Well, I gotta go. Catch you later dude!" He waved, running off down the street.  
Damien sighed, well, that wasn't pleasant.  
He continued his way down the street, wondering if anyone else would stumble across him, and if he would encounter anyone who actually was appetizing. 


	3. The Pitiful

-Pip's P0V-

Life had been horrendous for Pip after Damien had left to return home. Cartman took advantage that he was now defenseless, and verbally bullied him everyday. As the year went on, his taunts only grew worse, and began to turn physical. Almost everyday, Pip went home with a new bruise, cut, or scratch. His adoptive parents began to wonder if he was okay, or if he was being bullied. He polietly explained that he was not, but was just rather clumsy. Despite all the pain he suffered from his school life, the burden he held on his shoulders was much worse. Every single night after eigth grade, Pip cried, mourning over his beloved Anti-Christ as if he was dead. But he might as well have been, for he was in hell, anyways. The saddest thing was that the kiss Damien gave him during that percious moment before he left that day was the scene that Pip kept on repeat in his small head for all through Jr. High. He knew that Damien was never coming back, but deep in his heart, he held onto the words the demon exchanged before leaving, that he would try to visit him if possible. No, it hadn't happened yet but, maybe Damien was just occupied with something at the moment? Pip kept telling himself this, but as the years rolled on, he gave up hope completly.

Pip laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his legs crossed. The way he was sitting was not very polite, nor formal. But at the given moment, Pip didn't really mind. He was alone up in his bedroom. He didn't have to look nice for anyone. Pip pulled a chunk of blonde hair from the side of his face behind his ear, getting off his bed, and walking over to his dresser. He sat at the small chair, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. The shade of his skin was almost sickly, nearing white. His face was thin, his cheek bones jutting out more then usual. Soft freckles lined his colourless cheeks, giving depth to his dull blue eyes. He blinked, wondering if that was really him in the mirror. But quite frankly, it was. He lifted his hand up, touching his cheek. His fingers were thin, the nails looked brittle. He pulled his hand back down, and sighed. He had a bruise on his left collar bone from the other day, Cartman had pushed him into a door, then punched him.  
The memories were shook off as a soft knock could be heard at his door,  
"Pip, deary? May I come in?"  
"Oh, by all means!" Pip called back.  
The door opened, and his 'mother' stepped in, a weak smile on her face. "Oh, my word, you look awful," she frowned. Pip frowned as well, feeling guilty for having worried her. "I was going to ask you to go to the post office and grab the mail, but I think you should rest,"  
Pip stood up quickly, "No! I'm fine, really. I'll go get the mail right away," He murmured, walking past his mother and towards the front door.  
She sighed, "Alright, Pip, Supper is in two hours, be back before then,"  
Pip wondered why it would ever take him that long to get the mail, but he shrugged the thought off. He grabbed his coat, sliding it over his shoulder, then drapped a beige scarf around his neck. He quickly steps outside, and was instantly greeted by the cold air. He shivered, but walked down the sidewalk, leaving the residental area and entering the center of the town where all the shops stood. Pip was glad that he didn't run across anyone from school. He enjoyed the cool air, but quickly walked towards the post office. Approaching the stone building, a flicker of black caught his eye. Pip looked up, noticing a rather dark individual walking nearby, in his direction. Pip's chest automatically ached, for that flicker of hope that burned inside him for just a sheer moment was quickly extinguished. He looked at the ground, continuing to walk faster. He knew that it wasn't _him, _and he hated himself for wishing it was. After a few moments of walking, Pip forced his head up, looking at the dark individual whom was still walking in his direction. His heart skipped a beat, that flicker lighting up again. But this time, it stayed. He reconized him, the jet black hair, the gray skin, the red eyes, the dark clothes, from all those years ago, it was Damien.  
It was his Damien.  
The Anti-Christ.  
Son of Satan.  
Damien.


	4. The Powerful

-Pip's P0V-

Pip saw that Damien wasn't even looking at him, or even seem to notice him at all. Pip wanted to scream at him, but he refrained, pulling his frail body to a halt. He noticed Damien's head turn up, giving Pip a blank stare. Pip returned it, his thin legs starting to buckle, his lip quivering. Suddenly, a look of realization passed over the demon's pale, gray face. Something sparking up in those fiery eyes, but quickly extinguished.

"You look awful," Damien mumbled, totally monotone.

Pip stared at him with wide blue eye's, fury sweeping through him like a tidal wave. The young brit clenched his teeth together, running up to the anti-christ and pounding weak fist's into his chest. "You!" He squeaked, his voice sounding alot less intimidating then he was hoping for, but he continued on. "Y-You said you'd come back!"

Damien seized the boy's wrists in his powerful hands, glaring at him. "I did, didn't I?" he cooed, dropping Pip's thin arms. They fell limply by his sides, much like a puppet's.

"After four years!" Pip wailed, bursting into tears. "And you act like nothing's happened?"

Damien shrugged, "nothing really did,"

Pip stared at him, this throat growing taught. "Oh, great to know you were having a jolly time down there," he whispered faintly.

Damien sighed, "Pip, I'm back now, am I not?"

Pip felt his frail heart shatter into pieces. He spent four years trying to get over him, and when he finally did, or so it seemed, Damien came marching back up from hell with that stupid sharp toothed grin of his, acting like everything was fine, when it wasn't. Not even close. Pip's body shook, his weak knees buckling as he stood there, his gaze averting to his feet, tears dripping from his cheeks. He had lost it, again. Just like when Damien had left all those years ago, but for some reason, this time seemed more painful.

"Pip," Damien's deep voice came stern, "Pip, look at me."

The brit looked up through tear filled eyes. Damien stepped closer, wiping off his pasty cheeks. Pip squeaked as his tears began to steam, evaporating quickly. He stared at Damien. "What is it?" He asked softly.

"I'm here now," Damien continued, "That's all that matters. I'll protect you now, you-"

Pip cut him off sharply, "Protect me?" I don't need your protection, Damien!" He snapped. "You have no idea what I've been through these past years, you have no clue. So don't even TRY to make me feel better, you d-don't... you dont h-have any idea!" He faded off, looking at the ground, clenching his fists. It was rare for the brit to act up like this, but he was furious. "...I wanted to die, Damien! B-But I knew that if I died, I-I would be in a place were I could... n-never see you again..."

Damien stayed silent for a moment, then stepped closer, taking Pip's thin hands in his own, stroking over his bony wrists with his thumbs. "Pip, would you like to go for coffee with me?"

Pip looked up and blinked. As much as he wanted to push him away and run back home, he nodded, somewhat shocked about the sudden change in subject. Damien grinned, escorting him down the empty streets of South Park. Pip remained silent. He didn't have anything to say. But after four years of parting, what was there TO say? Soon enough, they got to the nearest Coffee shop, entering through the door. The heat that overwhelmed the small brit's body was nice, but it didn't seem to effect Damien. Pip followed him to the counter, the trembling blonde from school was wiping out some cups with a dishrag. He nearly leaped from his skin as he noticed them standing there. He ran quickly to their assistance.

"H-Hi, m-may I- Gah! - t-take your orders?" He trembled, twitching. Damien shot Pip a questioning glance, but Pip smiled sweetly at the tweaker.

"Earl gray for me please," Pip ordered.

"Black coffee," mumbled the demon.

"A-Alright," he nodded. Damien quickly slapped a ten down on the counter, the boy took it, wandering off to prepare their drinks. Damien and Pip then proceeded to sit down at a table near the back.

"Who was that?" Damien asked suspiciously.

"Tweek," explained the brit, "he goes to my school,"

"Ah," Damien hummed, "He smelt, odd."

Pip raised an eyebrow, "Oh? I didn't notice,"

"Bitter," Damien stated, "He smelt... bitter,"

"How does a person smell bitter?"

Damien shrugged, "Eh, it was the first thing that came to mind,"

Pip blinked, then dismissed the thought. He heard the door to the cafe open. Pip turned his head, a tall, thin, raven haired boy stepped inside, dressed in blue attire. He looked around, then mumbled something to himself. He noticed Pip and grinned.

"Hey frenchie!" His rough voice called.

Pip bit his lip, holding back his anger. "Good day, Craig," he muttered.

"Who's that?" He asked, his blue eyes sinking onto the demon sitting beside him, who returned his gaze with a sharp red one.

"Oh, this is Damien," Pip introduced. "He went to school in fourth grade,"

Craig smiled at him, but Damien's expression was blank. His eyes suspicious. Craig's smile dropped, and he flipped him off before walking back up to the counter where Tweek was preparing the drink's. The poor boy almost screamed as Craig approached him, spilling the coffee all over the counter. He screamed something about gnomes before Craig ran to his assistance.

"Yeesh," Damien muttered, his gaze fixing back on Pip.

"My word," The brit sighed, tucking his blonde hair behind his ears. "So, anywho, Damien. Where do you plan on staying during your visit?" he asked.

Damien tapped his black nails against the tabletop. He shrugged. "I'll stay at a hotel or something," he said, his deep voice monotone.

"Ah, I see," Pip chimed, "Where do you intend on getting the money from, may I ask?"

Damien glared at him, "I'm the son of Satan. I can get as much god damn money as I want,"

"True," Pip mumbled, not liking his sharp tone.

Suddenly, Craig came back to the table, holding two cups in his hand. "Tweek is still a bit shaken up, so here's your drinks,"

Pip nodded his thanks as the raven placed the drinks in front of them. Damien simply sat there, staring at him with a blank expression, his nose turned up slightly. Craig quickly retreated back to the counter, where Tweek stood trembling.

Damien sipped his coffee loudly, then nearly chugged the entire thing in one drink.

"My, Damien, thirsty?" Pip smiled, amused.

"Shut up Pip," Damien growled.


End file.
